


Anniversary

by Sarren



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/pseuds/Sarren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time of year is always the hardest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wendymr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/gifts).



“Do you really think…?” Lewis squinted up at the clear blue sky—not a cloud in sight, a cool breeze offsetting the warmth of the sun.

“Sir?” James sounded distracted. Lewis glanced at him. James was looking off to his left, over the churchyard, his gaze distant.

“That she’s, you know, looking down or whatever, watching over us.”

“You’d better hope not,” James murmured, but not as if he was really paying attention.

“What was that?” Lewis said, more sharply than he’d intended, if the way James’ eyes flew to meet his, startled, was any indication.

“Sorry, what?”

“What did you mean, just then, when you said I’d better hope not?”

James’ eyebrows drew together. “I said that?”

“You did.”

“Sorry, then. I don’t know what I was thinking.” James wasn’t meeting his eyes. His fingers twitched towards his pocket, towards his cigarettes, probably only the fact of where they were stopping him getting them out. Lewis knew that gesture well; it was a dead giveaway that James was discomfited.

“Right,” Lewis said, doubtfully, and James definitely shot him a guilty glance before turning to stride swiftly off in the direction of the car.

Lewis stood there a few minutes longer, letting the peacefulness of the surroundings soak into him, soothing his disquiet, until a particularly chill gust of wind cut through his coat and a shadow fell across the gravestone. Lewis glanced up. Clouds were scudding across the sky; the wind was picking up, a hint of rain in the air. He turned up his collar and followed the path back to the car, to where James patiently waited, leaning against the bonnet and drawing slowly on a cigarette. As soon as he saw Lewis he pitched the remains and moved around to the driver’s side. Lewis thought about making him pick it up, but it was just the car park, it wasn’t like James’d littered in the graveyard itself, so he held his peace and got into the car.

“Thank you,” he said, putting on his seatbelt. They’d carpooled as usual this morning, and Lewis had planned to visit Val after James had dropped him home, but James had driven straight here after work without asking. Lewis hadn’t even mentioned his anniversary. It was another example of how well his sergeant anticipated his needs after all these years. No, that wasn’t fair. It was an example of how much his friend cared about him. James glanced over at him briefly, and then returned his attention to edging out into the evening traffic.

“Steak or pasta for dinner?”

“Actually, I was thinking a quiet night in,” Lewis ventured.

“Sounds good,” James agreed. “I’ll cook.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I’ve got red wine or beer. If you want white, we’ll have to make a stop.”

“James.”

James pulled up at the traffic lights. He slanted a glance at Lewis, his face striped by shadows. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Sir,” he said firmly.

James was obviously determined to look after him. He couldn’t help but feel touched, so instead of pointing out that he was a big boy who could look after himself, thank you very much, Lewis found himself giving in. After all, would he really rather be alone tonight, feeling the weight of long years, of loneliness? No need to make it too easy for the lad, though. He sighed in a put upon way. “All right, he grumbled. ”Home, James,” he said, an old joke, and something in his chest lightened at the pleased grin James shot his way.

Preparation didn’t take long. James threw marinated steaks under the grill and then poured them both glasses of wine, which they sipped at the counter while James tossed salad and turned the steaks. They ate on the sofa. James put on Top Gear, and now Lewis knew he was being pandered to, because James’d made it clear in the past he wasn’t a fan of Jeremy Clarkson. Val had used to do her crosswords during it, he remembered. With a pang he realised that he hadn’t thought of Val since they’d got home. Lewis reached for his glass, even though he was already starting to feel the effects. Oh hell, if he couldn’t overindulge on this day of all days…. He drained the glass and James leant over to refill it, then put the bottle down with less than his usual grace. Huh, Lewis wasn’t the only one, then. James was keeping up with him, what, out of sympathy? He thought about reprimanding him, but he couldn’t be bothered to get annoyed, he was more relaxed than he’d been in days, so he just slumped back further into James’ sofa.

The show finished and Lewis decided he was bored of the idiot box. “Turn it off,” he suggested, and James did. He got up and switched on the stereo instead, put on something instrumental, something soothing, unobtrusive. Just the ticket. Lewis felt a rush of affection for the man. He really was lucky to have him in his life. “You didn’t have to do this,” he murmured.

James folded himself back onto the sofa beside Lewis. “Do what?” he said, apparently concentrating very hard on pouring himself another glass of wine from a new bottle that’d appeared from who-knows-where.

“Look after me,” Lewis said, bluntly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“It’s been nearly 10 years.”

“You still can’t talk about her.”

Is that how it seemed to James? “Why are you interested?”

“She must have been very special,” James said. Which didn’t really answer his question. James was looking at Lewis as though he really was interested, though.

“She was,” he agreed softly.

James turned so that he was side on to Lewis, one leg bent on the sofa and crossed at the ankle over the other leg. He rested his cheek against the back of the sofa. He was looking at Lewis expectantly and suddenly it was easy to talk about Val, to tell James about how nervous he’d been when he’d asked Val to go to the school dance with him, her friends giggling in the background, how she’d smiled at him and he’d felt like his 16 year old heart was bursting. Neither of them had ever had eyes for anyone else from that moment on. He told James of the joy their two children had brought them, and what a fantastic mum Val had been. James’ attention was absolute, his eyes never leaving Lewis’, except to take an occasional sip of wine.

Lewis was in the middle of a story about the time they’d rented a caravan for a family holiday in Wales and it had rained the whole time when he realised that his cheeks were wet. He swiped at them with his hand, feeling vaguely embarrassed. James was unfazed; he reached into his pocket and pulled out an honest-to-god handkerchief and held it out.

Lewis took it and wiped his eyes. “I think that’s enough reminiscing for one night,” he said, striving for a light tone. “I’ll be a blubbering mess if this keeps on.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

“Probably long overdue,” James pointed out gently.

“Possibly.” Lewis did feel better actually. Like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It was good to be able to talk to someone about Val, about what she’d meant to him.

Not someone. James.

“Thank you,” James said solemnly.

Lewis nodded. He should be the one thanking James. James had driven him to the graveyard—as always, a quiet source of strength for Lewis to draw on. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “What was all that about this morning?”

“What was what about?” James said, staring at him with his wide, pale eyes.

“When I asked you if Val was looking down.”

“Ah.” James blinked. He glanced away and then back at Lewis. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

“But you did. No, go on, I want to know what you meant.”

“You don’t.”

“James.”

James threw back the rest of the wine in his glass and then gave a hopeless sort of shrug, as though to say ‘you asked for it’.

“I was thinking,” he muttered, “when you said that, I thought that it would be better if Mrs Lewis couldn’t see you now.”

“Why?” Lewis said, stung.

“You think she’d be happy, knowing that you’re still ‘stuck in the past’? Your words.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? Trust James to remember.

“And that’s another thing,” James announced, pointing with his glass, the wine sloshing against the side, dangerously close to spilling on James’ immaculate white cushions. Still, that was his lookout. “Why are you so determined that I meet someone, when you won’t even consider it for yourself?”

“I just want you to be happy. I want you to have what I had.”

“I am happy.”

“Really?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“You have no life outside work.”

James was staring at him, looking honestly bewildered. “Of course I have a life outside work. I see friends, I go to gigs. I have my band.”

“Your band, I’ll grant you. But it seems to me you spend most of your free time with me.”

“You’re a friend,” James said, but his mouth turned down sulkily and it came out sounding more like a question.

“I do count you as a friend, James. But there’s more to life.”

“Sex, you mean.”

“No, I don’t mean sex, you daft sod.”

“Then why are you so insistent I hook up?”

“It’s having someone to come home to, to care for you, who’ll be there for you through thick and thin.”

James drained his glass of wine, but despite the amount of alcohol he’d had, his eyes were clear and cold. Lewis was suddenly feeling pretty sober himself, probably too much so for this heart to heart they seemed to have found themselves in the middle of. He finished off his own glass and held it out. James obligingly filled it up, the bottle clinking against the side of the glass.

“Well?”

“Those things,” James said, staring into his glass. “Doesn’t that describe you and me?”

Did it? “We don’t live together,” he pointed out.

“Maybe we should.”

“There’s an idea,” Lewis said facetiously.

“I’m serious.”

Lewis stared at James incredulously. “You want us to live together?”

“Why not? As you’ve pointed out, we spend most of our off duty time together anyway. It’d save us on rent, too, and time carpooling.”

“Sounds like you’ve given it some thought.”

“Not until now, no. But it makes perfect sense.”

“I don’t think that it’s such a good idea, lad,” Lewis said, watching as James’ brows drew down mulishly. “We already just about live in each other’s pockets.”

“You’re thinking about retiring soon,” he said accusingly.

He had been. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up again until he was sure, but he should have known James would pick up on his state of mind. “Is that what this is about?”

“You’ll be gone, probably up to Manchester. I’ll find a research position somewhere. There’ll be no reason for us to keep in contact. I don’t want to lose… this.”

James was right. Oh, they’d have the odd beer together now and then, maybe play squash occasionally. But other commitments would get in the way, would start to take priority and soon enough they’d forget to make time to catch up. They’d still be friends of course, but it’d be a pale shadow of their relationship now. And maybe that was the natural way of friendships that passed their use-by date, but bugger that for a joke, Lewis thought. James was more than his partner, he was closer to James than his kids, and to be honest, he didn’t want that to change. He didn’t want to move up to Manchester and have his life become about babysitting the grandkids, much as he loved his family.

“I’ll tell you what,” Lewis said, “how about if neither of us have found someone by the time I retire, we’ll see about getting a flat together.”

James eyes widened. He obviously hadn’t expected Lewis to agree. Slowly a smile spread across his face. He held out his glass and Lewis touched it with his own. “It’s a deal,” James said firmly.

No, he’d never replace Val. But maybe Lewis didn’t have to be alone anymore. James offered companionship, the love of a friend. He’d have to be a fool to say no to that.

Lewis wasn’t a fool.


End file.
